


Changes

by liztrade



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Reunion, Series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liztrade/pseuds/liztrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty months after Sherlock's fall, John Watson still lives in London. He has a job at a hospital, occasionally sees Greg Lestrade, and he stays far away from Baker Street. This isn't enough to keep Sherlock's memory out of his head. On March 30th, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

“Investigations are underway for the murder of socialite Ronnie Adair. Ms. Adair was found dead in her hotel room yesterday morning. Foul play is suspected.”

“Sad, just sad. We’ll have an update from Scotland Yard at 11. Now for today’s weather. Sam?”

“Thanks, Julia. The high will be 8 today, and we’re expecting rain showers throughout most of the day. Late tonight, though, it’s going to be-”

John Watson shut the television off from across the room. It didn’t really matter; the weather would be what it always was in March. It would be cold, damp, and dreary. Ordinary March weather.

Silently, he collected his breakfast dishes from the table and washed them in the sink. After leaving them on the rack to dry, he went to the closet, put on his scarf and jacket, and left for work.

The scarf belonged to somebody else once. A tall man with dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes. He was a very clever man who could look at a person and know their life story. He also had no filter and was rubbish in social situations. His name was Sherlock Holmes, and he was John’s best friend. His name was Sherlock Holmes, and he was dead.  
It had been twenty-one months since John watched Sherlock fall from the roof of St. Bart’s Hospital. The police ruled it as a suicide, and they ruled the death of the man found on top of the roof as a probable suicide. The man they called Richard Brook. The man that John knew to really be Jim Moriarty.

Moriarty was the reason Sherlock was dead. He lied to the press and damaged Sherlock’s credibility. Moriarty painted Sherlock as a fake, and the world believed him. John knew better. No matter what Sherlock had told him in his last phone call, he knew that Sherlock’s cases were real. What John was unsure about was why Sherlock had to die. He could have just proved that he was innocent and that Moriarty was in fact real. They could have gone to his brother Mycroft for help.

The fall of the once-great Sherlock Holmes was widely discussed for months. All of the criminals Sherlock had helped put in prison called for retrials and were set free. Greg Lestrade was briefly suspended from the Yard, though he was back within three months with the help of Sally Donovan. According to Greg, she felt sorry for her part to play in the drama, but she felt as if she was doing her job. John didn’t know if this was true or not; he hadn’t spoken to Donovan for nearly two years.

John was left alone in the city. He didn’t dare move back to Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson. There were too many memories there. Two weeks after the suicide, John packed his things and left. He stayed with his sister for a month, but left when the fighting began. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sister; he just couldn’t watch her drink her life away. He tried to help her get clean, but she was more stubborn than Sherlock. He found a cheap flat at the edge of the city and got a job at a hospital. The commute was far from ideal, but it had to be done. John stayed busy in the surgery. He had to stay busy. Keeping busy meant that he didn’t have to think about other things, but he was far from healthy. He was lonely.

John shuffled onto the tube with what seemed to be the rest of London. He stood in silence and watched the various platforms go by. People got on and off the train, and he noticed that it must have started raining, judging by the wet coats people wore. Over the past twenty-one months John realized how much he had learned because of Sherlock. He found himself looking for small details, which in turn helped him at work.

The train doors opened at his destination, and the crowds swarmed around John to get off the train. People bumped into each other, and John felt himself lose his balance. He winced as he fell onto the floor and watched several pairs of feet walk by him.

“I’m so sorry,” a baritone voice said, the owner pulling him up off the floor and helping him out the train doors. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” John answered. “I’m-” He looked up and saw that he was talking to no one. He turned to the train and saw a tall man walk back inside. His hair was short but curly. The collar of his coat was turned up. The man turned just as the doors began to close, but John saw two familiar blue eyes that belonged to a man he had long thought dead. “Sherlock?”

The train began to move, but John kept his eyes on the compartment. The man stayed put, and a group of people moved around him. “No,” John whispered. twenty-one months ago, he would have wished it was possible for Sherlock to come back, but twenty-one months of waiting made him realize that his prayers were not heard. This was impossible. It was only a man who looked like Sherlock. London was a big city. Twenty-one months ago, Sherlock Holmes committed suicide. John was still alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to continue this story, but the recent spoilers for Season 3 have dissuaded me from doing so.


End file.
